Her Sister's Keeper
by MyDogAteMyPenname
Summary: A Toby encounter, a feud with Manny, and a fight between the Sinclaire sisters. Heather's left high school, and life hasn't gotten better. Meanwhile, little sister Mona contemplates her own life, Calculus, sex, and Spirit Squad.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Hey! It's been a while since I've been really active in the Degrassi fandom, but I bring forth a new story that had been brewing in the back of my mind. I had been fascinated with the infamous Heather Sinclaire and her background, and, although the story surrounds mostly her non-canon little sister, this isn't your typical original character fic! This is set way after Emma breaks up with Peter and ends up with Sean. (Come on, they're destined, and I don't need to wait for The-N to tell me that!) Anyway, now that I've babbled on sufficiently, I hope you enjoy the story!

"I've failed"

Mona stared blankly at her reflection in the floor-length mirror, right in the corner of her bathroom.

"I've failed," she repeated in the same monotonous voice. Mona could have torn her pencil straight hair out. She could have opened her windows and screamed obscenities into the night. She could have done several other uncharacteristic things, actually. Never before had Mona Sinclaire failed a test. This test, as it happened, was her driving exam, the very exam Mona spent hours of study and practice for. It was the one exam her boyfriend could help her with, and Mona had failed it.

She began examining herself in the mirror: lightly tanned skin, unpainted nails, skinny legs and a flat stomach from all those hours at the gym, a thin face with an average nose, striking brown eyes, and behind all that, an intelligent brain that scared her friends at times. Her thin lips were wobbling slightly as she fought back tears. How could she become so emotional about one inadequate test? She could retake it two weeks later, anyway.

Mona pulled on a white Degrassi Community School sweatshirt and tiptoed downstairs. Her father was presumably sleeping at this point and her mother was on a business trip, but Heather was unquestionably awake, curled up in front of the television.

Heather sipped on an ice cold glass of water, her eyes glued to the screen as she flipped through channel after channel, finally settling on some nonsensical MTV dating show. Who knew? All MTV shows looked the same to her. She glanced over her shoulder, surprised to see Mona coming downstairs. "You okay?" she called out. Of course, she was naturally disappointed that her younger sister didn't pass the driving exam (she had taken three times before passing), but, secretly, she was glad there was that _one_ mark on Mona's unblemished record. Heather tugged a sock back onto her foot and waited for a response.

"Fine," was Mona's simple answer; she muffled slightly by the refrigerator.

Heather sighed and turned her concentration to some gay guy named after a Norse deity. Mona was like that all the time- detached, never expressing herself, keeping everything bottled up within. It privately annoyed her to death. At times, she could want to slap Mona and yell, "Say something besides the fact that you're fine! Anything! Jeez, Mona, can you whine once in a while?" Sure, it was hypocritical for her to keep those opinions bottled up, but she could _never_ yell at Mona; it was _almost illegal_ to do so.

"What are you watching?" Mona asked, now holding a small apple juice box as she reached for the salted peanut tin in the pantry. Heather looked at her for a split second before shrugging shamefacedly. A smile played at the corners of her mouth as she headed to her favorite striped loveseat in front of the window, collapsing with a muted sigh. Immediately, Heather stuck out her arm, reaching across the table for a grab at the peanut tin. Mona held it just out of reach, giggling as her older sister fumbled around, before leaning forward even more. After a few minutes of diminutive conversation, the sisters fell into a comfortable, pleasant silence, a silence they were both very accustomed to, save for the yells from the television.

Just then, the phone rang. Both siblings sat up in surprise, Heather, ultimately groaning, once she realized it was time for Peter's nightly call. It was something about Mona's boyfriend that seriously rubbed her the wrong way; she simply couldn't put her finger on it. It vexed her that Mona didn't care about Peter's Manny's Boobs scandal or how the kid always seemed dubious. Regardless of Heather's reaction, Mona dove for the phone and scurried away into the foyer.

"Hello?" she almost whispered into the phone, a rare smile spreading across her pretty face. "You're a few minutes late."

""Sorry, Mona," Even his voice could make her smile still broader. "I got into an argument with Mom about a mutual dislike between Madame Goldberg and me. How are you feeling?"

"Considerably better," she mused, shrugging, though she knew he probably couldn't see her do so. Mona paced across the floor in her bare feet, as she always did while on the phone with somebody. Her feet slapped softly against the dark tiles. "I'm watching bad television with Heather and that always makes me feel better."

"Too bad," he replied in an offhanded voice.

"'Too bad,' what?" Mona stopped pacing back and forth.

"You might just have to look out the window."

"Are you stalking me?" she asked lightheartedly, heading over to the window by the front door. And, sure enough, there was her boyfriend, leaning against his fancy car, holding a box of chocolate-covered mint Oreos and two mini cartons of milk. Mona gasped as she hung up the phone and whipped off her sweatshirt, opting for her favorite red pea coat. She slid on her ballet flats and hurried outside, running theatrically into his arms; it was only when they were alone that Mona permitted herself to act childishly. He had set the food items on the roof of his convertible and snaked his arms around her thin waist, smiling broadly into her kisses.

"You deserve a reward for going through a nerve-wracking test like that," he said, once they had situated themselves in the backseat of his car. Mona leaned against him and immediately, his arm went around her shoulders. "Now we have more time to, you know, review more." He smiled at her in that suggestive way of his and tilted his head down to kiss her slowly, his arms tightening the embrace. Mona, not at all taken by surprise by his display of affection, slid her own lean arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. Peter slid one hand onto her hip, slowly traveling up until it lightly cupped her breast as he pushed her onto her back.

Mona pulled back, staring up at Peter with wide eyes, meeting his own ardent ones; they had gone this far before, but she could sense he was expecting more out of it this time. "Peter, I-" he interrupted her with a fervent kiss and she lost her train of thought, losing herself again. Peter gently squeezed her breast, smiling into the kiss as he heard her moan ever-so-quietly. He had never waited this long with Emma, but one had to take their time with a girl like the one in his arms. He released her and moved to unknot the drawstring on her loose-fitting pajama bottoms.

Meanwhile, she was having quite an inner dilemma, to put it lightly; Mona honestly liked Peter, she really did, but she already had a reputation as Degrassi's principal prude and were his intentions with her good? A massive part of her wanted to give in to Peter, to be with him, to experience her first time with him. And, yet, another part of her, a minor, less significant part, reminded her of Peter's history, _especially_ with an inebriated Manny Santos. "Peter," she sighed breathily, putting a hand over his before the ribbon was undone, "I really can't… I just-"

"I love you, Mona?" he tried, smiling that half grin that Peter knew melted a part of the _impenetrable_ Mona Sinclaire.

"Don't _even_ try that with me, Mister Cliché Teen Movie."

He smiled down at her, glad that he was probably the only one lucky enough to see the girl in this state- hair disheveled, eyes half-open, lips puffed and pink from kissing. So, maybe she was the only girl he dated that would make him wait, and maybe she was one of the biggest overachievers on earth, but, somehow, that made him want her even more. "I mean it." It really felt good, finally coming out and expressing it. Her reaction was totally worth it, as well—meaning that she let out a girly squeal and nearly knocked him backwards, giving him a mind-blowing kiss Peter wasn't quite used to.

"I love you too," she whispered into his ear as she leaned forward, playing with his messy blond hair, inadvertently pressing herself to him. This small motion struck something within Peter and he pulled her to him, his slightly open mouth meeting hers in a fierce kiss, gently biting her bottom lip every so often. Mona looked rather taken aback as she resurfaced for air. "I have to go now," she whispered slowly, adjusting her clothes as she sat up straight.

Peter followed suit and fondly brushed some hair away from her flushed face. "I'll pick you up tomorrow," he replied, kissing her tenderly before exiting the car and running around to open the door for her.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Heather let out an obnoxious groan as she stumbled out of bed, tugging up her low-slung pajama shorts. The Sinclaire household was completely empty at this point, Dad at work, Mom in Michigan, and Mona at school, leaving Heather to schlep around even more and do as she pleased. She trudged to her personal bathroom, originally intending to pee before catching her reflection in the mirror.

She made a face; what she saw was horrible. "What the fuck happened to me?" she muttered quietly and bitterly, running a hand through her tangled, highlighted hair. The bags under her big hazel eyes were unbecoming, her nose looked like a plastic surgery gone amiss, and her face was sweaty from sleeping under several layers of blankets.

Heather had been the most popular girl in school her entire life. And then, something changed. Suddenly, her luck twisted; it was the fall of the Heather Empire and the rise of Paige. She remembered Paige had changed herself in the beginning of eighth grade, but she hadn't really thought about the consequences. Heather thanked her lucky stars that high school was over and she no longer had to think about who would be insulting her today, who would make a comment about her nose or what embarrassing thing she would do or say at a party.

The graduating class of Degrassi would soon forget about poor old Heather Sinclaire and she could finally come out of hiding.

She trudged down the stairs and into the kitchen after throwing on a navy hoodie over a lacy pajama tank top. Heather wasn't a coffee drinker, so she popped a cup of instant hot chocolate into the microwave. Her bare feet were cold against the mosaic tile floor. Heather stood on her tiptoes, observing the Mediterranean-themed kitchen as if she hadn't been living in that house her entire life. Her house was perfect, her clothes were perfect, her parents were perfect, and even her little sister was perfect. Where did she go wrong?


	2. Chapter 2

Heather had abandoned the mess she made in the kitchen; she had attempted to make a breakfast fruit burrito, but it didn't turn out exactly as planned. Instead, she took a quick shower and threw on a long blue tank top, a white polo, and a pair of old designer jeans. Shrugging on her favorite fur-lined jacket, she stepped into the chill of autumn outside, her perfectly styled hair already tossed and unruly. Heather proceeded to hop into her pitch black Jetta, starting the engine. She pulled out of the driveway and headed in the direction of The Dot for a decent cup of coffee that didn't have Starbucks written all over it.

Heather shuffled through the mess in the glove compartment, grabbing the first CD she touched and shoving it into the player. The sounds of some kind of Broadway musical filled the Jetta and Heather couldn't help but giggle. A while back, she had dated this guy, Charlie, who had been a theatre fanatic, to say the least; he was charming and gave her several mixes of his favorite showtunes, but in the end, as it always was with those male theatre types, he left her for another guy. They went their separate ways, and Heather continued to receive musical mixes on her birthday. Something familiar came on and she began singing along. "_I am not always on time, please don't expect that from me, I may be late, but if you can just wait, I will make it eventually. Not like it's in my control, not like I'm proud of the fact, but anything other than being exactly on time, I can do. I don't know why people run; I don't know why things fall through; I don't know how anybody survives in this life without someone like you…_"

Something about those lyrics tugged at her heartstrings, and she wasn't exactly sure why. Deciding not to ponder on that any longer, she stopped singing along and pulled up across the street from The Dot. Heather was glad she chose this time of day to emerge from the house; she enjoyed loneliness. A few minutes passed and Heather was seated in a chair by the window, contentedly sipping her coffee, flipping through last month's issue of _Teen Vogue_. The door bells startled her and she looked up, surprised to see some of Mona's classmates enter The Dot. She frowned mostly to herself, but said or did nothing to acknowledge their presence. Their noise irked her slightly and she finished off her cup, standing up to leave it on the counter. She whirled around to make a quick and silent exit, but leave it to Heather to crash right into someone.

"Heather Sinclaire!" he blurted out, eyes wide behind thick-framed glasses.

She couldn't help but smile at his exclamation. The fact that people referred to her using both first and last name amused her; she was like a celebrity, or Charlie Brown, or something. "Hello, um, yes, hello," she said to the boy whose name she slipped her mind, suppressing a yawn as she pulled her purse strap over her shoulder, "I'm surprised you remembered me."

"It's Toby." Oh, right, Ashley Kerwin's younger brother, the one who was friends with-- He chuckled sheepishly, "I couldn't forget you Heather Sin- I mean Heather." Toby appeared as if he earnestly wanted to melt into the floor, but Heather maintained the conversation, enjoying his every reaction.

"So, how is school? I hope Mona isn't being a pretentious jerk, or anything." She smiled. Like Mona would do something like that.

"N-no, Heather, she's fine. Mona's actually really nice, and cool, like her big sister." Toby was the same height at Heather Sinclaire and forced himself to look her in the eyes. He had only spoken with her a total of three times his entire life and it baffled him how she could even pretend to remember who he was. "How's college going for you?"

"It must be bizarre to be in the same grade as your older step-sister." He sort of chuckled and nodded, shrugging again. "I didn't apply to anything," she replied quietly. Toby's eyes widened once more and he looked as if he had offended her by saying she looked fat, or something of that nature. "No, no, I meant to say that I'm taking a year off before starting school again. High school was draining, but I miss it." Now that was the biggest lie Heather had ever told anyone without laughing or making a face. "Look, it was nice to see you, Toby. Catch you later!" With that, she darted out the door and jogged across the street.

She collapsed into the driver's seat after slamming the door shut. It had been a simple, pleasant conversation with a boy she had never really spoken to. Well, why did it make her want to cry so much? Heather hugged herself and brought her knees to her chest, brushing away her own tears, her bottom lip wobbling uncontrollably. Her whole body shook with silent sobs as she ducked her head in case Toby or any of his friends were watching. Whatever they thought didn't matter to her, right? Wrong. Heather cared about how people perceived her and what their opinions were, regardless of who it was, or if she knew them personally or not. She cared so much about it and she hated herself for that.

"Come on, Mona; try out for the spirit squad!" Darcy Edwards pleaded as she followed her friend to her locker. "You're totally flexible, and you'll be easier to lift than _any_ of us- plus, don't you think your little boyfriend would enjoy seeing you in a cheerleader outfit?" She had lowered her voice for the last sentence with the suggestive raise of the eyebrows, an almost devious smile crossing Darcy's features.

"Darcy, for a pious and fervent Christian and member of the Friendship Club, you have such a dirty mind sometimes," Mona replied, rolling her eyes, and she pulled her Physics binder out from her one-shouldered backpack and placed it neatly on the adjustable shelf in her locker. As she pulled her arm out, her treasured charm bracelet, a piece of jewelry she had since she turned three years old, fell off her slender wrist. Both girls knelt to pick it up, but a stiletto-clad foot passed by at that very moment and kicked it towards the next set of lockers.

"_Manny_!" Darcy whined as she looked up, getting to her feet before helping her friend up as well. Manny simply glanced over, giving them both a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders. Mona felt herself tense up; Manny had always hated her from elementary school all the way through high school, but Mona had no clue as to why, exactly, Manny was on a rampage to make her life miserable. Darcy had scampered off to retrieve the bracelet and eventually handed it over to her proudly. "Don't mind her; she's just like that sometimes." Or all the time, Mona thought sullenly. "Remember, what goes around, comes around."

"What about the time you helped her break Paige's leg last school year?" she challenged quickly, albeit a bit more timid than intended. Darcy was definitely a good, prudent, girl-next-door type, and she admired her for it, but Darcy also had a very catty, wily side that she probably shouldn't let out on a daily basis.

"I- well- I repented for my sins and God forgave me afterwards," she replied after faltering for a moment, nervously playing with the silver zipper on her light green sweater, suddenly looking worried, as if lightning would strike her at any moment. Instead, her boyfriend, Spinner Mason, came up from behind, hugging her around the waist. Darcy giggled loudly and whirled around to plant an innocent kiss on his cheek. The pair headed towards the cafeteria together, Darcy looking over her shoulder to wave happily. "Think about my proposition, Mona, okay?" she called, just before they turned the corner. .

"What proposition?"

Mona turned around and gleefully exclaimed, "Peter!" She tilted her head up to meet his lips with her own, simultaneously adjusting the collar of his light blue button-up shirt. "Oh, it's nothing, really; Darcy proposed that I sign up for Spirit Squad because I am apparently easy to toss around, and I'd be a shoo-in to get on the team. It's a preposterous idea, I think- I would barely have time to study and do my homework if I was even accepted."

As she spoke, Peter began twirling a piece of stick straight hair around his finger, watching it quickly unravel, and then trailing his finger down her shoulder, across the top of her shirt, which sat a few inches above her bosom. Mona had grabbed his hands after shivering slightly. Peter met her gaze again, smiling broadly as he said, "I would love to see you in a cheerleader uniform, not going to lie."

Mona rolled her eyes and stepped forward to whisper in his ear, "You are so incredibly sexually charged, and occasionally I wonder why you might want to stick around with little old me." She made a move to step back, but he simply slid his arms around her waist to pull her towards him.

"The fact that you would look really hot in a cheerleader uniform aside…" Peter grinned roguishly, just as she shot him a Look. "You're far more intelligent than I am, you're just generally a good, thoughtful girlfriend, and you're not the really whiny, emotional type. Oh, right, and I love you, too."

"My, my, Peter, you have quite a way with words, don't you?" was Mona's reply, unable to keep a smile off her face as she shut her locker and the couple started for the lunch room.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mona reached the front steps of her house, waving quickly to Peter before heading inside. She didn't prepare herself for the image she was about to encounter- Heather collapsed on the kitchen floor, crying hysterically, sobbing silently with shaking shoulders. She rushed towards her sister, worry crossing her face. "Heather?" Mona asked tentatively, kneeling down next to her, placing a light hand on her shoulder. "Heather, are you okay?

She angrily shrugged off her younger sister's hand, jerking her shoulder out, turning her head away. What was she supposed to say? '_No, Mona, I am not okay. I haven't been okay for the past four or five years, all right? Everyone hated me in high school, everyone judged and everyone made fun of me. I am not fucking okay._' Instead, she decided on for a simple, "No," and rose to her feet on her own, scrambling to get upstairs.

Mona shook her head; she honestly loved Heather, just as a good sister should. However, in comparison to most normal siblings, they seldom spoke. In fact, the two sisters exchanged the most words while watching television the night before. Mona rose to her feet and slipped into a bar stool, lightly placing her school bag on the chair to her right, preparing to eat a health bar while doing her Advance Placement Calculus homework, methodically, just as she had done so since she turned six. (Of course, the math was much simpler, way back when.) The mechanical pencil scratched across the college ruled paper of her notebook, forming the tidy numbers and cursive Mona had practiced for years. She paused only once to adjust her headband, while staring at a particularly difficult problem.

Meanwhile, Heather emerged from her bedroom, traipsing back into the kitchen, standing before the stainless steel refrigerator in search for a can of soda. She observed her younger sister for a good five minutes, simply sipping her drink. Fuck, she was so studious and almost angelic, just sitting there like a good girl should, humming quietly as she did her school work; it pissed Heather off and it wasn't long before she interrupted, "Do you ever cut loose?"

She looked at Heather in surprise, clicking a few millimeters of led out of her pencil. "What do you mean?" Mona asked with the raise of her eyebrows.

"_I mean_, do you ever do anything stupid? For once, have you ever wanted to _not_ do your homework right after school, or cut a class, or sleep with your fucking boyfriend, or something?" Heather spat. She didn't mean for everything to sound so astringent, but she honestly couldn't help it; Mona's integrity, or whatever, pissed her off since they started attending middle school and eventually high school. A slow smile spread across her face as she watched the blush creep across Mona's cheeks at the mention of sleeping with Peter. "Ah, but you've thought of it, haven't you?"

She neatly set her pencil down in the middle of her Calculus text book. "Come on, Heather, every teenager experiences these sorts of emotions every five seconds, or some—"

She clenched her fists and squeezed the can of soda. "Don't give me this psychological-scientific bullshit, _sis_, and just answer the question."

"I have never cut a class, I have never missed a day of homework, but, _yes_, I have thought about sleeping with Peter." Heather started to smirk, but Mona added, her voice, which had been even until this point, tightening, "But, I'm not going to do it, just because every Manny Santos and Paige Michalchuk in the school has done it, or because Peter says he loves me, whether he means it or otherwise. I intend on waiting until the right moment, as cliché as that may sound to you."

Heather shrugged casually. "You know he's just doing all these nice things for you because he wants to be the one boy at Degrassi who can say they were _the first one to get into the righteous and prudent Mona Sinclaire's pants_."

Those words triggered something in Mona and she got up from the bar stool, not breaking her eye contact with Heather's, her voice rising with every word, "Look, I don't know what on earth is wrong with you or what kind of problems you have, but, it's ludicrous that you're taking this all out on me, when I don't even know what's going on with you! How dare you judge me when we barely communicate with each other?"

"That's half your fault, you know," was all Heather could say in response before stomping her way upstairs.


End file.
